Goodbye My Lover
by Scousedancer
Summary: Tom has never said a proper goodbye to Rachel, the woman he loved, nor grieved for her passing. Seeing the lab set up on the James once again but no Rachel is more than he can take and the grief he's been burying comes welling up to the surface. (My take on how I'd like to have seen Rachel's death addressed on the show)


**This story is dedicated to all my friends in the Writers Block party, especially Caden29 & MorningGlory2 - who like me weren't happy with the way Rachel's death has been handled. Whilst I adore the character of Sasha (hence her appearance in this story), I think Rachel's passing should've been better handled**

Goodbye My Lover

Tom stood in the doorway, looking at the lab that had been so carefully reconstructed on his orders. After Takehaya's son had been delivered and been successfully vaccinated with the Scott cure, it became even more imperative to find out why the cure had failed so spectacularly in Japan. Tom had ordered the lab to be rebuilt on Rios's recommendation, the man may not be Rachel Scott, but he had been her willing assistant from the minute she had gone public with her true mission. Tom knew from conversations with Rachel herself that Rios had been a very quick learner, and that she'd been impressed with how quickly he had brought himself up to speed with her research. Rios was all they had now, they had to pray that he was as good a student as Rachel had thought, and that she'd been equally as good a teacher.

Over in the corner of the room, Tom spied the desk he'd found Rachel sat at many a night, pouring over her research, trying to find the answer to the Red Flu. Several times he'd come close to bodily carrying her back to her quarters and forcing her to sleep, but the sight of the ship's captain carrying their chief scientist through the hallways would've been disrespectful to them both. Instead, Tom had settled for bringing her a cup of the Camomile Tea she so adored, and persuading her to join him out on the fantail, just to talk. Eventually, he'd been able to persuade her to get some sleep, walking her back to her quarters, something else she'd protested, until he'd quietly explained it was simply the gentlemanly thing to do. Rachel had blushed prettily and thanked him, for the tea, for the conversations, and for just being her friend – even though they'd both known that whatever it was between them had long since ceased to be just friendship.

He walked into the room and sat down at the desk, fingering the photo no one knew he kept in his pocket. It was a selfie he'd saved to his I-phone, one Rachel had taken the night they'd docked in St Louis, one they'd both posed for after they'd made their peace together over the hulking black shadow that was Niels Sorensen. He'd gone to talk to her, to explain why he'd acted as he had and to make his peace with Rachel, not knowing where they'd end up now the end of their mission was in sight. Tom hadn't wanted to lose her friendship or leave things unsaid between them. He'd known that he wasn't yet done grieving Darien, but he wanted Rachel to know that he cared, as more than just a friend, to ask if she'd wait for him. They'd talked for what seemed to Tom like hours, and had made their peace, but he'd never got around to asking her to wait for him as the conversation had suddenly turned giddy, and Rachel had asked him to pose for a selfie – for posterity she'd said. Laughing, he'd agreed, and they'd posed for it, holding each other and smiling happily. Rachel had sent it to his phone, and he'd kept it, looking at it often in the dark, awful days following her death. It had caught her spirit, the fierce passionate soul that she was, the Joie de vivre with which she'd lived her life. A brief moment in time when they'd simply been just Tom and Rachel – two close friends on the cusp of becoming something more, the hope and promise in that simple photograph filled him with both joy and sadness. It was a photograph of hope, and of dreams never to be fulfilled – and yet he couldn't bring himself to part with it, because like the mug she'd gifted him with, and his memories of her, it was all he had left of Rachel.

Unbidden the tears rolled down his cheeks, slowly at first then gathering speed, the grief he'd not allowed himself to feel bursting free in a storm of tears. Alone in the darkened lab, Tom sobbed piteously, his heart aching for the fierce, passionate soul that had been Rachel Anne Scott – doctor, scientist, warrior, friend, and would be lover. The memories of the woman who had made such an impression on him came rushing back end over end- the first time he'd met her in that sunny cargo bay, the day she'd squared up to him in the hangar and informed him of her true mission, the kiss she'd given him to pass over the note, the tender embrace they'd shared the night she'd found the cure, the arguments over Niels, and the last time he'd seen her alive as she'd sashayed down the hallway, swinging her hips for his benefit. Like a series of snapshots, the images of a small but larger than life woman who had come to occupy such a precious place in his heart raced past his mind's eye.

"Oh Tom, sweetheart, please don't…don't cry" a woman's voice broke through the storm of Tom's grief and his head shot up, looking for the person who'd trespassed on his mourning, however inadvertently. Sasha stepped out of the shadows and walked towards her former lover, her heart aching for him, the pain he was in had been radiating out of him for weeks. It had been Hugh Jeter who had clued her in, that the grief, the gradual loss of emotional control that Tom was known for, wasn't down to the loss of Darien, though Sasha had no doubt it weighed heavy on his heart. It had been losing Rachel Scott in such a brutal fashion, a woman who had been more to Tom Chandler than the Scientist/Doctor who he'd been charged with protecting. According to Jeter, they'd been very, _very_ close – despite the huge fallout over Rachel's killing of Niels Sorensen, they'd repaired their close friendship and so Jeter suspected, had taken things further than anyone realised.

"I have no proof, Sasha, only my intuition, but I've worked with Tom Chandler for years, and he's taken her loss harder than you'd take losing _just_ a friend" the Master Chief had told her, and it made sense to Sasha.

She felt it was more likely down to the fact Tom had obviously made the decision to move on with Rachel Scott only to lose her so tragically, and had been unable to save her that was causing Tom so much pain. Jeter felt Tom had been working his way through the loss of Darien, and had been drawing close once more to Rachel, when they'd lost her so cruelly.

"Sasha…. I'd. I'd like to be alone if you don't mind" Tom's heartbroken voice broke into Sasha's thoughts, pulling her back to the present. She looked at him, at this strong, proud man struggling with such overwhelming loss, and shook her head.

"Tom, you've been battling this alone for weeks, and where has it got you? Teetering on the verge of an emotional meltdown" Sasha replied, reaching out a hand to caress his face gently, not missing the fact that despite his words, Tom leant into her touch anyway. Another time, he might've flared up at her as their fights when they'd been together had been legendary, but tonight he didn't have the strength. She was right, he'd been fighting a losing battle for the last 5 months if he were honest with himself. Right now, Tom needed a shoulder to cry on and despite their legendary scraps, Sasha had always been there when he hit his lowest points, never judging.

"Tell me about her, Tom" Sasha asked softly, seeing the acquiescence in his eyes, they'd always been able to read each other so well. "All I know is the reputation, not the woman behind it – the woman you loved"

Tom looked up at her and almost went to deny the words, so long had he been repressing his feelings for Rachel, but instead he nodded, smiling wistfully.

"I did love her, she was so…vital, so alive, so beautiful" He replied, the memories of Rachel rushing through his mind's eye "Rachel was a petite woman but she'd square up to anyone, me included if she felt she was right"

"She sounds someone worth loving Tom, I'm so very sorry for your loss" Sasha said gently, as she sat down beside him, squeezing his hand tenderly.

"I found her that night, did you know?" Tom continued "I'd let her convince me she needed to go back to her room, so no one would see her leaving my room"

"You were lovers, and you didn't want her being gossiped about" Sasha returned "What's wrong with that?"

"I should've gone with her Sasha!" Tom's anguished cry echoed through the empty room "I let her go alone, and that… _bastard_ shot her! Like a dog! _My beloved Rachel!_ "

Sasha drew Tom into her arms as the tears flowed again, holding his tall frame against her, stroking his back and making soft, soothing noises. Eventually Tom's sobs eased, and Sasha dried the tears without comment, caressing his face gently before speaking again.

"Tom if you'd gone with her, then the world might have lost you both" she held up her hand to still his protests "I'm not belittling her loss, but I know it's the last thing she'd have wanted – I felt the same way when we got through that minefield"

"I miss her so damn much Sasha – I loved her heart and soul" Tom told her, grief still colouring his words.

"I know you do, Tom, you don't do anything by halves" she returned "When you love, its total, forever…..so let yourself remember, savour the memories of her, as she was, not how you found her"

"I should've been there" Tom whispered, exhaustion from the emotional storm beginning to take its toll on his battered soul.

"You were Tom!" Sasha cried "Instead of dying cold and alone, you were there for her, the last sight, the last sound Rachel had was of someone who loved her! Now let's get you back to your cabin, you need rest my friend"

Tom nodded acquiescing without a fight, and that alone told Sasha just how heavy a burden he'd been carrying all those months. The Tom Chandler _she_ knew wouldn't have usually gone so quietly without kicking up a fuss. Arriving at his cabin, she let them in before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead and let herself out silently, leaving Tom alone with his memories of the woman he'd loved and lost. Lying back on his bed, Tom closed his eyes and let himself remember _that night_ , the first and only time they'd been lovers.

 **6 months ago, St Louis:**

Tom stared at Rachel, dressed in the beautiful lace dress barely hearing the rest of her words, his heart racing at the thought of being apart from her. It would be the first time in nearly a year that he wouldn't be seeing her on a daily basis, and the thought sent a cold shiver through his soul. Despite the awful, agonising silences, the anger he'd felt in the wake of Rachel's killing of Niels Sorensen, he couldn't imagine his world without her in it in some fashion.

Tom had managed to pull her aside earlier this evening, once the Ball was in full swing and their absence wouldn't be noticed, to talk to her, to finally get rid of the lingering traces of anger, his and hers, to fully heal the breach. He'd had every intention of wooing her slowly, introducing her to his family, and making her a part of his life permanently. He'd spent much of the aftermath of the battle with the sub, processing his grief over Darien's loss – the crew had known what to do, leaving him with time on his hands. Tom had come to realise that he was head over heels in love with Rachel Scott, had been falling her truthfully since the day they met. Now, before he'd had any chance to put those plans into action, she was leaving and uncharacteristically, _he_ was the one being left behind! Suddenly he realised Rachel was speaking and had stepped toward him, holding out the envelope she'd brought him for POTUS – and Tom knew he _had_ to act, quickly! As she held out the envelope, her fingers brushed his and he snagged her wrist, tugging her into his arms and kissed her soundly.

"I'll see you when I... mmmmph!" Rachel never got the words she'd intended to say out before Tom's mouth covered hers as he kissed her, and her heart leapt with joy!

Slowly, Tom ran his tongue over her parted lips, pleading for entry and Rachel was only too pleased to grant it. Eagerly, their tongues duelled in a heated, passionate dance as hands slowly stroked, touched; their first kiss had been aboard Vyerni but had been all about subterfuge, but _this kiss_ was all about them, just them. Before either of them had a chance to over think things, Tom pulled his room key out of his pocket and pushed the door open with one had as the other wrapped around Rachel's waist, pulling her into his room, his mouth still fused to hers. Tom closed the door by pushing Rachel's slender body against it as he trailed a series of heated, open mouthed kisses down her neck. Tipping her head back to give him greater access, Rachel moaned softly, the sensation of his lips on her neck and his hands gently caressing her lace clad breasts was driving her wild with desire. Rachel's fingers began to undo his clothes, stroking every inch of his skin as she removed each item of clothing, smiling as she removed the last item and he stood before her in all his naked glory.

"Like what you see Rach?" Tom asked, looking down at the face of the woman he loved, a woman if she was really here, he could have only once.

"Very much so my love" Rachel purred softly as she began to undo her own clothing, but Tom stilled the motion of her hands.

"Please, let me" He whispered "If you're leaving in the morning, then I want to enjoy every second, especially as it might be a while"

Rachel nodded, wishing she hadn't agreed so quickly to the President's scheme, not realising that Tom would choose tonight to declare himself. She'd known he was slowly dealing with losing his wife, and that sooner or later, she would get her chance to be with him, thinking that she could begin building the foundations of their relationship through calls, letters. Putting aside her thoughts, Rachel gave herself over to Tom's loving, delighting in the feel of his fingers as they ghosted over her already sensitised skin. Tom listened with joy as Rachel moaned whilst he licked and sucked his way down her body, egging him on with "Yes right there", "oh god yes!", and his favourite "Don't stop!". Somehow, they made it to the bed and paused to look down at this gorgeous, petite woman who had taken such a hold on his heart, a heart that was already breaking at the thought that come the morning, he'd have to say goodbye to for weeks, months possibly.

The thought wasn't enough to stop him, and he resumed his ministrations, parting her legs gently, bending his head to her folds, running his tongue over them, relishing the taste that was uniquely her. Tom parted her folds, and began sucking the glistening bud nestled there, as Rachel's cries of passion increased until he felt her body shake with her release as it washed over her. Recovering her breath as the tremors of her release dissipated, Rachel pushed Tom onto his back and mounted him in a single movement, guiding his already straining erection between her legs, groaning in pleasure as she felt him slide inside her slick walls. Tom held Rachel by the hips as she rose and fell, their lusty moans of pleasure filling the air along with the scent of sex. He inserted a finger between her folds and began stroking the same bud he'd just caressed with his tongue, watching as she began to tremble again, feeling her silken walls begin to squeeze and caress his shaft, knowing his own release was so close. One more thrust and suddenly their release roared through them both, their cries of pleasure echoing through the darkened room. Lying beside Rachel, Tom fought the pull of sleep, he didn't want to waste a precious second of his time with her.

"I love you Rachel, I'm sorry I never told you before" Tom told her, kissing her tenderly.

"I know Tom I know" Rachel whispered "I wish we had more time together"

Holding each other, they savoured just being together and the sensation of being skin to skin. It was at this point Tom knew Rachel had gently extracted herself from his arms, insisting she needed to go back to her room. They weren't ready to go public yet she'd told him, and he'd reluctantly agreed, watching her leave. This time though, the memory didn't finish as it usually did, with that god awful sound of a gunshot that had torn his love from him. Instead, he found himself in Rachel's arms again, lying in the bed they'd just made love in

"Goodbye Tom, I love you, always" Rachel said softly, her touch on his face feeling like a breath of air, barely there at all.

"Goodbye Rachel, my love, I'll never forget you" Tom whispered back, the tears rolling down his cheeks again as she suddenly disappeared.

Tom sat bolt upright in the bed, and then realised he wasn't in St Louis, but in his cabin aboard the James, that it had been a dream. A dream, but one that had allowed him to tell Rachel he'd loved her, to say goodbye. He would never forget her, but he knew he had to let her go – the Rachel he knew wouldn't want to see him wallowing in grief. He owed it to her, to her legacy, to the future they had begun to build together to find a way forward – he owed it to them both, and to the love they'd shared so briefly.


End file.
